A Place Elsewhere
by Kamen Disguise
Summary: Post Elsewhere plot. Bethel is born and leads a fairly typical life as far as one might go until soon her dreams are haunted with talking dogs, people she's never met before, and a place elsewhere. Diary-format. R&R&Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Elsewhere was chosen as my outside reading book for English class, suggested by a couple friends, and as a project we were supposed to write fictional diary entries based on the book we'd picked. Mine takes place after Elizabeth is reborn at the end of the book, and how her past life in Elsewhere still haunts her. Also, plenty of book references for you to point out for yourselves. I thought that as a project this turned out okay, and when I found out Elsewhere was listed in the Books category of FF, I had to post this. Hope you enjoy reading! Feedback appreciated.

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own Elsewhere, where all credit of plot and characters go to Gabrielle Zevin. However, I do own the reborn Elizabeth and Owen, for they are MY fictional characters.

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April 3, 4:55 am

I turned twelve yesterday, but I honestly don't feel a difference. I really don't think I'll start to feel anything about getting older until I can go watch PG-13 movies by myself without my mom raising her hand to cover my eyes during the three-second kissing scenes. Seriously, how old does she think I am? I wish I had some kind of older sibling that was twenty-two. One who had a decent job but didn't have a boyfriend/girlfriend yet, so mom and dad could bug he/she about getting married and having grandchildren, but then I suppose he/she would push the responsibility onto me once I got old enough… darn. Plan foiled after all.

The reason I am up at five in the morning is not to complain about how few presents I received for my birthday, because I already did that yesterday. No, the reason I wake up at this incredibly unreasonable time is because I had that strange dream again. You know, the one I mentioned last week? The one where I could talk to dogs? It's really cool, the concept, at least, that I can talk to dogs in my dreams, and as farfetched as the idea seems to be, it actually all kind of makes sense to me, although I have no idea why. Anyway, this dream took place in the same place as my other dream did, but this time I was driving. I don't what I was doing behind a wheel at my age, but that wasn't what freaked me out the most. What _really_ freaked me out was the guy that sat next to me. He looked like he might have been seventeen, eighteen at the most. And it's that the fact that it was some random guy was sitting next to me, it was that he looked a _lot_ like my neighbor, Trent, that ten-year-old boy, just… _older_. While definitely not identical, you could tell that both might have been brothers or one the older version of the other and vice versa.

I can totally understand why I might dream about talking to dogs, because that's one of those super phenomenal things that all people want to do (but then again, I've actually always wanted to fly, so why dogs?). I do not, however, at _all_ understand why I might dream of a boy that I don't even know that well. I don't mention him much in my entries because he moved here a couple months ago, so he's really a total stranger to me. He seemed nice enough when he came over to offer cookies as a moving-in gift (obviously forced upon by his mother), but then a couple kids down the block spread a rumor about how he still wets the bed, so I've steered clear of his presence since he'd moved in.

Oh, well, Lucy's up. Guess I'd better go and feed my favorite pug in the world!

_Bethel

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**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **This is for _Te Amo Emmett_: Glad you like it so far!

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own Elsewhere, where all credit of plot and characters go to Gabrielle Zevin. However, I do own the reborn Elizabeth and Owen, for they are MY fictional characters.

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June 27, 10:38 am

It's summer break, school is over, and I'm still twelve (meaning a big no-no to going to the movies with Addison this afternoon… I really hate my mom sometimes). Summer means "fun in the sun", rollercoaster rides, no school, friends, summer school (stupid mom), lazy summer days, no homework…

But that also means no more refusing to hang out with the annoying next-door-neighbor with stupid excuses about homework (when in reality, twelve-year-olds have almost no homework and procrastinate on all the homework they _do_ have).

About half an hour ago, I heard the doorbell ring, and I decided not to answer it, because almost no one has houseguests over at ten in the morning. However, everyone knows that people are usually home at ten in the morning, so after around the twentieth round of "ding-dongs", I got up from my very comfortable position on the couch to answer the door. And whom do I find? Trent: dopey smile and all, standing on my doorstep, probably waiting to be invited in (and I did I spot a tooth missing?). About to slam the door in his face because it's totally not cool to be seen with a ten-year-old who still wets his bed, I do not at all expect Trent's foot to wedge itself into the house. This, of course, very effectively stops the door and possibly breaks a toe bone or two by the sound of the pained wail that followed.

Freaked out beyond belief at the fact that he actually did such a thing and that someone might've heard him, I ushered him into the house. Good thing my parents were out at Mervyn's special summer sale and wouldn't be back until late afternoon or else I'd be getting a nice earful by now. After making sure that he didn't actually break any toes making him swear he wouldn't breathe a word of this to anyone, he left.

Yes, he left. Just like that.

Not before blackmailing me into hanging out with him later, though.

Right now I feel like a very big idiot for having opened that door this morning, because now I have a not-a-date thing at the park at eleven with Trent. Trent: my-next-door-neighbor-that-still-wets-the-bed Trent.

Good thing it's only for today, though, and that I have nothing else to do.

Yep. Only for today.

Bethel

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**TBC...**

(Reviews make my day!!)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Am loving _Te Amo Emmett_, my number one fan. Again, for you!

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own Elsewhere, where all credit of plot and characters go to Gabrielle Zevin. However, I do own the reborn Elizabeth and Owen, for they are MY fictional characters.

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November 14, 6:45 pm

Yesterday was Trent's thirteenth birthday, which kind of stinks for him since it was Friday the Thirteenth and all. Not that I'm into all of that superstitious stuff, but Trent was paranoid all of yesterday (although I have to admit it's sort of my fault: I let Maggie's black cat into the house and opened a couple of black umbrellas to freak him out a bit).

It's a little hard to believe that I've known the guy for almost three years now. He's just so nice to be around, it's hard not to want to be friends with him. I still laugh when I think back to the whole Trent-still-wets-the-bed phase, one that ended soon after the day Trent flipped the neighborhood bully over his head. The kid, some dumb eighth grader at the time, might have been fine after this incident, but his face was just priceless; it's not like _he_ knew that Trent had been taking Tai Kwon Do for six years (and still does).

Even though I totally remembered his birthday and was even the first to congratulate him for now being able to watch PG movies by himself now (that's right: PG. Not PG-13. His parents are worse than mine!), I was not able to buy a present in time. I can tell he's looking forward to my present, because all he usually receives on his birthdays are money, hugs, and kisses from mustached grandmothers (ew).

It's getting harder to think of what to get him, because getting an eleven-year-old was much easier: a video game or two and they were set for life. What do you get one who has just become a teen? Big step from boy to… older boy.

The other day, Trent told this really funny joke, but instead of laughing, I waved it off and said to him that he'd told me this joke before. Confused, Trent said no, he hadn't, and that he'd just learned this joke from a friend the day before. I, also very confused, had no explanation, but shrugged it off and said a relative told it to me once, and he dropped the subject very easily.

This, however, bugged me a little. I had never in my life heard that joke, but somewhere in the back of my head I hear myself saying that Trent, or maybe not Trent, that the person beside had told this joke many times before. Then I'd think, "when in my life has he ever told me this joke?", and yet this question wouldn't make sense at all, and my mind would zero in on the words "my life", like those weren't the right words.

Or, perhaps I'm reading too late at night. Those Gabrielle Zevin books can get pretty intense.

Dinner's ready, and I smell Chinese take-out. Yum!

Bethel

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**TBC...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Much love and many thanks to my numba 1 fan, _Te Amo Emmett_! Your words make my day. x] Acknowledgement to _Hobbit4Lyfe, _as well! **

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own Elsewhere, where all credit of plot and characters go to Gabrielle Zevin. However, I do own the reborn Elizabeth and Owen, for they are MY fictional characters.

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May 21, 5:16 am

What fifteen-year-old wakes up at this time on a Friday morning?

Recently, I've been having the same weird dreams I used to have years ago. They stopped for awhile after I meant Trent, but now they're all coming back. Once more, my dreams consist of talking to dogs and the same older Trent. The one I had last night was different: instead of a car, we were in a boat. I distinctly remember myself wearing some kind of wet suit of a sort, like I had just gone scuba diving, and I remember seeing the older Trent sitting across from me. The only difference between this older Trent and the older Trent in the car was that the one in the boat wore sunglasses and didn't look as happy. Had I done something wrong? I felt myself talking, but I couldn't hear anything I was saying. I felt like the "me" (I'm pretty sure that it's still me, at least) in the wet suit and the older Trent were supposedly having this serious conversation. Whatever the older Trent had to say, I didn't like, because I remember feeling angry and frustrated at the older Trent. Then, at a certain point, I could finally hear words, but the only word I heard was "died" and then I woke up.

I've heard of friends dreaming about guys before, but the guy would either be categorized as a celebrity or a current crush, and Trent was neither. So why did I see an older him in my dreams?

This all hurts my head too much. I knew it was too early in the morning to be thinking properly.

I'm sure everything will make sense in the morning.

Bethel


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **-blushes- Special virtual cookie for _Te Amo Emmett_! As a heads up, the next chapter will be the last, since lengthy English projects weren't welcomed too well. However, I want your opinion: are you okay with the next chapter being the end? Because I could totally write up more entries in order for this to keep going a little while more, because when I was writing this I felt like I could definitely go further with this plot. The only drawback in doing this would mean longer gaps in between updates. What do you think? I value your opinion, being my #1 fan and all. :) Hope you like this one.

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own Elsewhere, where all credit of plot and characters go to Gabrielle Zevin. However, I do own the reborn Elizabeth and Owen, for they are MY fictional characters.

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April 4, 4:44 am

I suppose you could say I woke up at this time on this day for fun. Month four, day four, time four forty-four. While my original purpose was not to wake up on this day and at this time, I definitely eventually felt the need to write at this time. One: for fun. Two: to remember it. Three… well, there is no three. I guess things just sound like a better reason when you count them off past the number two.

There is a good reason as to why I want to remember this day, however. As what usually is the reason of my getting up early all the time, I had another one of those strange dreams.

I was standing in front of a house. Obviously, I had to do something that required going inside the house, otherwise I wouldn't be dreaming about some random house, so I walked up to the front porch and rant the doorbell, and out stepped the older Trent, who looked slightly irritated and very confused. I recall myself yelling some words that I'm sure were supposed to be harsh, but the next line is implanted very well into my memory, and still have no idea why. Someone from inside the house seems to be asking the older Trent something, and so the older Trent yells back "It's only Liz."

It's only Liz.

Only Liz.

Although I have no clue who in the world Liz is (because it is certainly not me), this statement, "Only Liz", seems to ignite something inside of me that sets me off completely, and I explode with:

"Only Liz?"

My tone is offended and rather miffed, but, more than anything, angry.

In response, the older Trent closes the door behind me to step outside to lead me off the porch. Strangely, I remember his next words as well, probably because this is the first time I've heard older Trent speak.

"You don't say a word to me all night, and then you come over here to yell at me!"

After this, I think "Nice going, Liz," for I have yet to find out who Liz is except that she's angered this older Trent.

Then, I speak.

"Owen, I don't think it's fair—"

And I wake up.

Of course, I automatically think "Liz? Owen? What in the world?" because I know no Liz nor Owen. Why would such names pop up out of nowhere? Owen is not even a name I am fond of, because it is dull and drab.

Thus far concludes the strangest dream I have ever had. I don't declare it random, because according to the past dreams I've been having, there is no such thing as random, and I'm sure I dream them for a purpose.

Or, the dream fairy dropped the dream into the wrong head and never got it right for fifteen years.

Sleep makes more sense on a Thursday morning. Also, Lucy's looking at me strange.

Bethel

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**TBC...** the last?


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Virtual hugs and cookies to _Te Amo Emmett_ for your words of encouragment (and praise I probably don't deserve), and a warm welcome to _la Belle Luna Claire_! Thank you both so very much for reviewing, and as my thanks I have decided to extend this story, if only by a few entries or so, depending on how this goes. I'm putting off the real ending until I decide I have written enough. In preperation for making future entries, I checked out Elsewhere out of the library once more. Your reviews make my day! I'm going to try and continue this, so wish me good luck, and enjoy!

**Clarifications**: Since I originally planned to have 6 chapters, as was what I wrote for my English project, I spaced out the years in between. In Chapter 1 and 2, Bethel is twelve; Chapter 3 and 4, fifteen; Chapter 5, sixteen. I screwed up something major about her age and her birthday, so if you think this chapter's a teense bit off, it's because originally I had planned it to be her birthday, and I had to make it work out by making her half Jewish and making up some lame excuse for early Christmas. **Also**, instead of spacing out the years, starting from this chapter, the dates will be closer together, leading up to the last chapter. Hope I wasn't too confusing. D:

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own Elsewhere, where all credit of plot and characters go to Gabrielle Zevin. However, I do own the reborn Elizabeth and Owen, for they are MY fictional characters.

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December 10, 4:25 pm

I should probably start working on that English essay due tomorrow, like I said I would to my mom before I locked myself inside my room. But it being my birthday today and all, well, I won't die or anything from a couple hours of procrastination. ("Famous last words," Trent continues to tell me.)

Something a little weird happened, like things usually do in my life that happens to not belong to me anymore. And that thing is obviously something more important than homework.

A long time ago I learned that my name meant "house of God" in Hebrew. I also learned that my dad used to be Jewish, and that he named me Bethel because it was pretty name, and it got my grandparents to lay off of the traitor: my dad. And since we have to visit them every winter break (to appease them), our family celebrates Christmas day a few days in advance, something I thought was fine, getting my presents a few days early and all. It happened like any other Christmas day, until I had to be weird and ruin it all.

This morning, I woke up to the sound of "Merry Christmas, Bethel!" and was greeted by the sight of two much-to-happy smiles (because one can only take so much enthusiasm on a Monday morning). After cleaning and dressing myself, my mom and dad handed me my present in a medium-small blue velvety box. Inside it was gold watch (obviously not real; my family's not too well off of anything). I was touched, because I knew it was no cheap nail polish set. But instead of the usual warm hugs and kisses exchanged between parent and child that followed such events, the first words that came out of my mouth were:

"But my old one was silver."

And right after that, I clamped my lips together and covered my mouth with both my hands, with a look of puzzlement that probably equally matched my parents'.

Their reaction was natural. Yes, dad, I know you never gave me a watch before. No, mom, I didn't _steal_ anything. Mom, dad, I'm fine with it, this is the greatest present anyone has ever given me, you guys are the best…

And while I managed to very swiftly change the subject with many words of praise to my parents (no such thing as too much flattery), I still could not come up with any excuse for myself. It was true: I never wore a watch because I never really needed one. Not that I'm complaining about the present or anything, because I actually looked really cool with it when I wore it to school. (I don't care what Trent says; it didn't look out of place at all. It was _meant_ to be on my wrist. Although I admit it isn't really something that I would pick out for myself.)

This just about matches the weirdness of my dreams. Or maybe it was one of those times where my brain goes haywire and it spouts out random words. The problem is, that's not the case. I know it relates to the dreams, somehow.

Or maybe I'm going crazy. The more likely excuse, of course.

I'd better get on with my homework now. Also, Lucy hasn't stopped growling at me since I walked through the door. At first I thought she had something against the color gold, but my mind did a double take after I remembered that dogs were colorblind.

But maybe they aren't. I mean, what do we know? It's not like we ever asked them or anything.

Right?

Bethel


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Sorry if it took longer than usual. School is just killing me... I might start updating every week, unless I have some spare time amidst the sea of homework. Hope I wasn't keeping you waiting too long, _Te Amo Emmett_, to whom I send warm and fuzzy feelings to for reviewing. :) Enjoy! I have the next chapter ready whenever you are!

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own Elsewhere, where all credit of plot and characters go to Gabrielle Zevin. However, I do own the reborn Elizabeth and Owen, for they are MY fictional characters.

(I also own Patty!)

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January 5, 4:40 pm

Lucy has some issue with my watch.

Yes, a weird way to start out, but for the past couple of weeks, it's the only thing that's been bugging me. Eventually, I got the hint and began habitually taking it off and setting it on the kitchen counter before I would greet Lucy when I got back from school. But then my mom started freaking out about how I turned out to be an ungrateful child, leaving special Christmas presents all over the house, so I hide it in my drawer now.

I swear, it's the strangest thing; it's as if the watch itself scared her, and that she was scared it would harm me. "Just wearing the watch won't kill me, Lucy," I admonished her one day while I gave her daily belly rub. At that, Lucy stopped kicking her leg at nothing and seemed to stare at me, like she was sad. Then I remembered something I'd learned from psychology that day and reminded myself out loud, "dogs don't have emotions", to which right after that, Lucy let loose a vicious growl and left my room as fast as her stubby legs could take her. When I mentioned this strange occurrence to my mom, she'd simply told me to stop feeding Lucy leftovers from the dinner table when I thought my mom wasn't looking, and so that maybe Lucy would start acting like a normal dog.

That night Lucy wouldn't come near me until I lay a strip of leftover fried chicken in her bowl.

It's almost time to go; I promised Trent and Patty we'd all go rent a movie and watch it at my place. We had chosen to rent out MIB, the movie Patty had suggested we watch. But when she found out neither of us had ever watched it and she asked if Trent and I knew what MIB stood for, in unison Trent and I answered, "Message In a Bottle", as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. At that, Patty laughed her head off before telling us that it actually stood for Men In Black (what a stupid name for a movie). Even though Patty didn't bring it up (she was too busy wiping tears from her eyes, even though it wasn't _that_ funny), Trent and I had no explanation as to why we said that. I'm guessing Trent's as weirded out as I am. Then again, strange things happen to me all the time, so I guess I've gotten used to it. I think it bothers Trent, though; he remained silent throughout the whole conversation that day.

Well, like I said, time for me to go. I'm sure Trent will feel much better after watching a movie as "captivating" (Patty's words, not mine) as MIB.

But next time, _I'm _choosing the movie.

Bethel


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** For _Te Amo Emmett_, sorry for your surfing limit. :( No one likes it when that happens. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Extra bonus cookies if you notice all the references I make. :)  
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****Disclaimer: **I do not own Elsewhere, where all credit of plot and characters go to Gabrielle Zevin. However, I do own the reborn Elizabeth and Owen, for they are MY fictional characters.

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January 8, 8:30 pm

Have I ever mentioned Mrs. Spencer before? I suppose not, since many other things seem much more important these days.

Mrs. Spencer is the best math teacher ever, in the whole wide world. Her only quirk, I guess, is that she's a tad strange. Last year, I heard a rumor that one time she burst into a fit of giggles, then, shortly after, into tears, after hearing the word "tepees". Some said she'd probably had a hard day, while few claim she'd finally lost it. This rumor jumped out at me when I found out she was going to be my teacher, but after the first week of school, I found out that she was a really awesome person. Trent joked that in a different life, if she hand I had been the same age, we might've become best friends. But I didn't find it too funny, since I found it highly possible. She seemed to like me well enough, saying hello to me when we passed each other during school. The only strange thing she did other that year, though, was on the first day of school: when I walked through the door, she gave me a funny look, and I swear I heard something like "Izze", that popular soft drink Trent had been drinking a lot recently because he liked "the sound of it".

And that was as weird as she acted all year. (Well, there is the fact that she told us she moved from Chicago to here; what's with that? Who'd leave Chicago for some dumb old town in Massachusetts?) But, that's not the reason I brought Mrs. Spencer up. This time, as always, it was _me_ that did the weird thing.

See, Mrs. Spencer, like all teachers, likes keeping pictures on her desk, of family and friends, for all to see. And like all other students, I liked looking at them in my spare time. Mrs. Spencer had ended class early, so I was in no rush as I took my time to look at each frame. (There was a prettily framed photo of Mrs. Spencer on her wedding day, kissing the cheek of a man that looked like he had nice forearms, strangely enough. Don't ask.) I went through the collection until I happened upon a picture of a dog that I found familiar but couldn't decide where I'd seen it before, and asked if he/she belonged to Mrs. Spencer.

"Yes," she had answered, looking up from the papers had been grading, always happy to socialize. "Isn't she the cutest?"

I nodded (all dog owners, like mothers, said that; I did, too). "What's her name?" I asked.

"Sally."

"Sadie?"

"Sally."

"Oh, Sally…" Whoops. My mistake.

If she thought my slipup had been peculiar at all, she didn't mention it. It made me feel embarrassed though, so I changed the subject. I pointed out another photo, this time with two teenage girls that looked around my age hugging each other and making silly faces at the camera. Her children? "Hey, Mrs. Spencer, who's that?"

Mrs. Spencer looked up once more to see which picture I had been pointing at, and when her eyes lit upon it, she squinted like suddenly it was hard to see. She then spoke, her voice making it sound like had something stuck in her throat. "Oh, that's—"

Unfortunately, the bell rang, signaling me to hightail my way out of there and out to English, leaving Mrs. Spencer's answer unfinished as I hastily apologized and waved goodbye.

In the end, I never got to find out who those girls were, because the next day a substitute was assigned to our class and said Mrs. Spencer had something very urgent to do in Medford. Out of all places in Massachusetts, why Medford? It's not like anything important happened there, and the place being about an hour away by car, what could've been so urgent?

Speaking of Mrs. Spencer, I have math homework due tomorrow that I haven't started yet. As much as I love Mrs. Spencer, sadly, calculus and I are simply things that will never bond. I should probably start it, though…

Bethel


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **_Te Amo Emmett_: I hope you can forgive me. :( I feel like a horrible person for not having updated in -checks calendar- about a month. I've been out for a week, then making up stuff for a week... crazy crazy stuff. I am so sorry for leaving this fic alone for so long. Alas, here is a new chapter, but recently I have decided the next to be the last, because it's simply becoming harder and harder for me to find time to continue this. And while it will be a horrible conclusion to the past few extra chapters, I still want to use the original ending I had planned to use in the first place. So, I will leave you with one last update sometime this following week! Hope you enjoy this chapter, nevertheless. :)

**Note: **This chapter takes place before the last one, in order for it to make sense... even though my warning tells you otherwise...

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**WARNING**: This is a crack!chapter, guaranteed to not make sense and possibly confuse you. You have been forewarned. (In some terms, a filler.)

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own Elsewhere, where all credit of plot and characters go to Gabrielle Zevin. However, I do own the reborn Elizabeth and Owen, for they are MY fictional characters. Oh, and I don't own MIB or Mike Ike's, for the record.

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January 6, 10:45pm

Men in Black turned out to be okay. Well, actually, I thought it was pretty cheesy, the aliens and all, but despite the terrified look on Trent's face (that might've proven that old rumor of him and his bed to be true), he'd actually enjoyed it. And since I seemed to detest it so much, Patty promised that she'd show him MIB II, except just for the two of them. Trent agreed, enthusiastically. A little too much so, I'd commented. I don't know where it came from, but the tone I'd used had been snotty. While Trent gave me a confused "what does that mean?", Patty gave me a "nice try, but I won" look. I don't know what she won or what game we were playing, but somehow the way she'd smirked at me just ticked me off completely.

I ended the conversation with a miffed "Fine, do whatever you want" and stomped away from the scene. It was childish, but how else was I supposed to react? Patty had discreetly challenged me, and had won round one. This was actually quite normal, because we never really got along in the first place; Trent was our "friend in common", our place of mutual ground. Patty's actually my age, but is in the same tae kwon do class as Trent, something they bonded over. But ever since she'd transferred to our high school, Trent had the three of us meet together more often, wanting everyone to be friends. We acted civil enough towards each other around Trent, but whenever he left, we'd either split up or start arguing about extremely trivial matters.

But this all still didn't explain what I was trying to win. That all had happened yesterday during school, leaving me puzzled and pissed until late afternoon, still wanting to get back at her but not knowing how.

It wasn't until around five I found out what it was all about, or at least, how to play this new game.

Trent appeared at my doorstep with the second season of our favorite mystery show in hand, a box of Mike Ike's, and a sheepish yet hopeful look on his face. And I realized something.

_Patty, I've won this round after all_.

With a happy smile on my face I let him inside.

That night I dreamt of an older Trent at my side while I kiss and bite his arm, wondering if he'll ever actually tattoo my name on his butt.

I have been drinking way too many energy drinks. Trent claims they'll kill me some day, but I know they won't because he buys me one every so often after a crappy day.

I can't wait until the next round, though.

Bethel


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **_Te Amo Emmett_: Well, this is it. Thank you so much for following me all the way through; you're seriously the reason I bothered updating this. Much love and cookies. You make my day when you review. Hope you enjoy this last chapter.

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**Note:** Like I mentioned confusingly in the last chapter: this chapter originally takes place after chapter 5. You know, before I went crazy and added extra chapters.  
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****Disclaimer: **I do not own Elsewhere, where all credit of plot and characters go to Gabrielle Zevin. However, I do own the reborn Elizabeth and Owen, for they are MY fictional characters.

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April 3, 4:56 am

Yesterday I turned seventeen. I honestly don't feel much of a difference. But that's probably because my brain's gone numb from all of the SAT taking I've done. For my birthday, Trent got me a green balloon, because green's my favorite color. I would've preferred shoes, but I guess it's okay, since Trent wouldn't be seen dead inside any mall. I think it's impressive enough he managed to step inside a super market to find something for me.

After I received the balloon, Trent was late for Tai Kwon Do class and had to leave, so I walked home by myself like I usually do on Wednesday afternoons. Then, a grown man in a suit and tie, probably in his late thirties or so, stopped me before I could cross the street. He didn't call out my name or even tap my shoulder politely. Nope. He grasped me by the shoulders, shook me a little, stared me in the eyes, then drew me into a tight hug and started crying into my shoulder.

What does one do when in such a situation?

I thought so.

It wasn't that he was rude, or stared at me strangely, or even that some creepy old guy had just hugged me. It was the fact that this grown man was _crying_. Silently, in a manly way, but still crying. No girly sniffles, just silent tears.

Now that I think about it, I could have at least pat the guy on the back, comfort him a little, or ease up his crying in the slightest by doing _something_. But of course I didn't, and decided to stand frozen in his arms, feeling very foolish, and all the while grasping onto my green balloon for dear life because there was nothing else to cling on to.

After a good hour or so (probably two minutes), he stopped and pulled back to look at me properly. Eyes a little red and nose a little ruddy, he blinked at me and said "Lizzie, you're back. I knew you'd come back. How was it, wherever you were? You were happy, right? Of course you were. You told me at Zooey's wedding at the fountain, remember? Did you know I'm married now? I have a kid, too; she's a girl… I mean, I have a daughter. I named her Elizabeth, after you, of course. And…" The man paused to take a deep breath. "Of course you don't know a word I'm saying. Would you mind telling me your name?"

While the smart thing to do would probably be to scream as loud as I could, I felt that for once the right thing might be wrong, so before I could stupidly say "mommy told me not to talk to strangers", I said "Bethel, I was named after my grandmother."

The man simply smiled, then let go of my shoulders and wiped his nose on his nice clean sleeve. "My grandmother's name was Betty." He held out his other arm. "I'm Alvin, by the way. Alvin Hall."

Still stunned, I shook his hand anyway. "Nice to meet you," I mumbled quietly. It was weird, to be completely honest.

Alvin Hall nodded. "Sorry for the trouble. You look a lot like my sister used…" He blinked a few more times and took another deep breath. "You look a lot like my sister." After staring out into the distance for a little while, he looked at me and smiled happily as a grown man who just cried into a seventeen-year-old girl's shoulder could. "It was nice meeting you." We shook hands again, and he left.

Last night, I had a dream where Trent and I sat in a garden. For some strange reason, I thought of Alvin's grandmother, Betty. I wore a pink tutu, and Trent a paper crown. I was four, and he was six.

It was a very strange dream, because I never knew Trent when I was four. Also, Trent is two years younger than me, not older than me. A very strange dream indeed.

This might have nothing to do with anything, but recently, whenever I wash my hands or take a shower, I think I can hear voices. Then, I think I hear the name "Elizabeth" over and over again, but then it disappears. It's haunting, sad, yet comforting at the same time.

Or, maybe I've been watching one too many horror movies alone at night.

Or, maybe I should go to bed now, and dream of a place elsewhere.


End file.
